


contractual obligations

by hesselives



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Gender Roles, Humor, M/M, if my memory serves me right, pretty sure this happened in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesselives/pseuds/hesselives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All things considered, Bertholdt supposes that it’s not the worst thing in the world to be married off for the sake of peace and prosperity. He just didn’t expect his betrothed princess to be so.....Reiner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	contractual obligations

The problem with Bertholdt Hoover being a quiet and unremarkable middle child is that people tend to forget about him. (Even people whose job is to quite literally watch over his royal self.) On an otherwise perfectly normal morning, Bertholdt finds that this can have life-changing consequences.

He’s absently nibbling on a waffle and reading a book during breakfast when a brief mention of his name makes him frown and look up. His parents’ voices echo faintly from the other side of the massive dining hall.

“—have to send him off tomorrow—”

“—must check the provisions—”

“—signed the contract, right?”

Bertholdt squints at them, then raises his voice. “Mom? Dad? Everything all right over there?” 

The king and queen turn to look at him in surprise. “Oh hello there, Bertholdt dear,” his mother says in a tinkling voice. “We were just talking about your arrangement for tomorrow. Speaking of which, are you all packed yet? You mustn’t forget to bring everything you need. It’s expensive to send things by courier, you know.”

Bertholdt tilts his head in confusion. “What are you talking about? Are we going on vacation somewhere?” He feels vaguely unnerved as his parents give him a long, hard stare.

“Your marriage, Bertholdt,” his mother finally says, in her most disapproving tone. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“No,” Bertholdt says slowly, privately wondering if they’d both gone crazy, “I didn’t forget. Because there is no marriage.”

His mother scoffs. “Were you not listening to your father at all when he—?”

“Whoa, hang on,” his father interrupts. “I thought _you_ were going to tell him?”

“ _Me_? I clearly remember agreeing that you would be the one to explain the whole thing, while I make the proper arrangements.”

They pause and turn to look at their son, who is beginning to realize that this is not all just an elaborate hoax.

His father coughs and lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Er, surprise.”

Bertholdt sinks down into his chair and closes his eyes, hoping that when he opens them again that he will find himself in his nice, warm bed where he can forget about this entire ridiculous dream.

But of course, he has no such luck, and on the very next day he finds himself unceremoniously packed up and shipped out to the neighboring kingdom of Braun.

+++++

Trundling along in a gilded carriage, Bertholdt props his chin in his hand and stares moodily out the window.

“—and her name is Princess—” His mother squints at the piece of parchment in her hands. “—something or other.”

“Princess something or other,” Bertholdt repeats flatly. “Fascinating.”

“Honestly, who wrote this? I can’t read it at all—” his mother tsks and holds the paper right up to her eyeballs. “Does this look like a B or an R to you?”

He slides down lower and lower until his face is planted squarely in one of the seat cushions. “Awefijgasdf,” he mumbles.

“....Regina?....Begina?....”

+++++

It shouldn’t be surprising, considering he’s now the newest contractually-obligated addition to the Braun family tree, but Bertholdt is still rather taken aback at seeing a whole entourage of people flooding to greet him.

He stands there awkwardly and feels a bit like a maypole, with the way they all jostle excitedly around him and attempt to stick flowers in his hair. Using one hand to keep away a particularly handsy old lady, Bertholdt looks around nervously at all the young women, wondering which one is his betrothed. 

_I hope she likes books. We could read novels together. Or maybe she prefers playing the piano. It might be nice to take duet lessons and—_

His hopeful thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a hulking young man who’s not only waving at him like a lunatic, but looking dangerously close to bursting out of his— is that a silk dress? “Yo, future husband!” he booms with a huge grin on his face.

Bertholdt widens his eyes. Then immediately turns to crawl back into the carriage, muttering, “We’ve definitely got the wrong address—” Only to be thwarted by his mother, who slams the door right into his solar plexus as she steps out. Grimacing in pain, he sinks to the ground in a very slow and very undignified fashion.

“Bertholdt? Bertholdt, what are you doing down there?” his mother hisses. “Get up and stop embarrassing the family.”

“I really—” he wheezes out, “I really think I need to review the fine print on that contract.”

“What are you talking about? It’s already—”

She abruptly finds herself at a loss for words when the aforementioned young man (still wearing his dress) runs over and grabs her hand enthusiastically, shouting, “Hey, new mom! Whew, glad you made it. I mean, you never know, what with the bandits and wolves and potholes these days. Anyway, hey, I’m Reiner. And I gotta tell ya, I’m super excited to be marrying your son. It’s gonna be great!”

And it is purely thanks to decades of experience in diplomacy and general political frou-frou, that the queen of Hoover kingdom smiles warmly (instead of gaping like a fish) and thanks Princess Reiner for his hospitality (instead of squinting and asking if he’s _sure_ he’s a princess) and humbly requests that the Braun family kindly look after her son (instead of— well, she would’ve left Bertholdt here anyway).

+++++

Dinner is a loud, boisterous, and _messy_ affair.

Bertholdt and his mother are sandwiched in between the entire Braun clan, all rowdy and red-faced, clustered around one giant oak table. And the two of them are already (desperately) on their third frothy beer when Reiner’s mother rises from her seat — broad, imposing, and clad in ornate armor. She loudly clangs her right gauntlet on her breastplate and lifts up a massive tank of ale. The entire hall falls silent.

“Today is a historic day! For the very first time, the people of our kingdom shall witness the unity of the houses of Hoover and Braun! Together, we will be stronger than ever before and share in all that we have to offer. To the kingdom of Hoover, we open up our rich and vast hunting grounds, our celebrated smitheries, and our unrivaled breweries. And from them, we can learn much at their vaulted libraries, their grand concert halls, and their ancient wineries.” 

She pauses to smile proudly at Reiner. “My youngest daughter. I remember when you were five and refused to attend any of your cooking and needlepointing classes, like a proper prince should. Instead, you grabbed your sister’s axe and tried to lift it, shouting, ‘Mama, just you watch. I’m gonna be a princess!’ And at that moment I knew you were always meant to be one.”

She opens up her arms and Reiner barrels right into them, sobbing happily. “Oh, my little Reiner,” she sighs. “All grown up and so beautiful. A mother could not ask for more muscled and hard-headed daughters like you and your sisters. You make the Braun family proud.” Then she pulls back and holds him firmly by the shoulders. “Carry the name with dignity. Be a true wife to Prince Bertholdt and care for him well. If he is hungry, hunt for him ten stags. If he is thirsty, bring to him ten caskets. And if his life is in danger, always defend him with your bow, your spear, and your axe!”

The whole crowd roars and cheers, as Reiner gleefully lifts his axe and hauls up Bertholdt to cram him against his side. “Bertholdt! Bertholdt! Bertholdt!”

Completely pinioned and somewhat struggling to breathe, Bertholdt turns to look at his mother and realizes with an increasing sense of dread that she is staring up at Reiner like he’s the best gift God ever gave her.

+++++

Bertholdt looks faintly queasy as Reiner proceeds to engage in the first wedding ritual, which is for a princess to demonstrate to her husband that she can properly dissect and de-bone a stag that she killed just for him.

“Oh Bertholdt,” his mother-in-law says warmly, “I can’t wait to see what you’ll bring to the family. I have every confidence that you will be a fantastic husband to Reiner.”

It’s possible that he makes a meek strangled noise in response, but she continues right on to say, “He had so many suitors, but not even the finest hand-built catapult could move his heart. But then when he heard that you were available for marriage, he said to me, ‘Mama, he’s the one. He’s tall, well-read, and has a talent for gardening. I have to have him.’”

She smiles beatifically at him. And all Bertholdt can hazily think about is, _....gardening?_

At that exact moment, Reiner drops the stag’s bloody and slimy heart right in front of Bertholdt, and beams expectantly. Trying not to stare at the bits of guts and gore that are spotting Reiner’s dress, Bertholdt picks up the stag heart and says, “It’s, um, perfect. Thank you.”

Reiner positively glows. “I knew you’d appreciate—”

“Your highness!” a loud and horrified voice interrupts them. They all turn to look at a short young man with unruly dark hair, menacingly wielding a pincushion and a bar of soap.

Reiner laughs and thumps him on the back. “Haha! Bertholdt, meet Eren, the angriest seamstress in the world. His skills are top-notch. The best fucking seamstress you’ll ever see!”

Eren glares maniacally up at Bertholdt. “Damn right I am.” Then he whips around to scold Reiner, yelling “didn’t I say to be careful” and “if you wanted a wedding dress decorated with stag guts, you should’ve just asked the butcher to make it” while furiously scrubbing at the stains.

“It’s a very nice dress,” Bertholdt says lamely.

“You see?” Reiner shouts. “He knows what’s good when he sees it!”

Eren stops and pointedly stares at him. “Oh, _really_.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to—”

Eren ignores Reiner and packs up his soap and needles, leaving Bertholdt with a surly “I hope they’re paying you a ridiculous amount of gold to put up with him” (then adds belatedly, "your highness") before stomping off.

Bertholdt, still clutching the goopy heart, blinks slowly. 

Reiner blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “Heh, what a jokester.” Then he turns serious and peers up at Bertholdt. “Just so we’re clear, that wasn’t in our contract.”

+++++

It’s late evening, after the festivities have died down, and the newly-wedded couple are standing awkwardly on opposite sides of their large (very large) bedroom.

“Um, well—” Bertholdt starts hesitantly. But Reiner gets there first. 

“I sleep in the nude.”

Bertholdt stares. He was expecting maybe a ‘good night’ or ‘see you in the morning,’ but apparently that’s too much to ask for. “Um,” he says, clutching at his flannel pajamas. “Is that really....necessary?”

Reiner shifts his feet and shrugs. “That’s how I always sleep.” Then he squints a bit at Bertholdt. “I mean, I don’t have anything you don’t.”

Bertholdt tries very hard to recall his persuasive speaking lessons, and comes up with absolutely nothing. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Very pointedly not looking at Reiner, he quickly ducks into his side of the bed, shifting to the very edge of it, and pulls the covers up over his eyes. Only after he hears Reiner settling in over on his side and rearranging the fur blankets, does Bertholdt dare to peek out. And nearly falls off the bed when he sees Reiner with an amused look on his face.

“I guess this means we won’t be makin’ babies anytime soon.”

Bertholdt chokes and turns to hide his face in his pillow for a good long minute. Eventually, a muffled laugh escapes him and Reiner grins in victory.

After all the candles except one are blown out, Bertholdt says quietly into the near-darkness, “Good night, Reiner.”

He jumps a bit when he feels Reiner’s hand close gently over his, but all Reiner does is say fondly, “We’ll be great together, Bertholdt. I just know it.” Then he carefully returns Bertholdt’s hand back to his side of the bed, and promptly falls asleep.

Bertholdt lies still for a moment longer and wonders how Reiner can be so sure. He has no idea what Reiner sees in him, but -- he lets his eyes adjust to the darkness and studies Reiner’s profile -- he can maybe begin to tell what he sees in Reiner. His kind eyes and wide mouth, strong jaw and proud nose, and Bertholdt thinks maybe, just maybe he could one day love—

Reiner smacks his lips as he rolls over and emits a particularly loud fart.

Bertholdt groans and covers his face with his hands, kicking his foot in Reiner’s general direction.

This is going to be a very long marriage, indeed.


End file.
